


aftermath

by coloredink



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Epilogue, Gen, Post-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-05
Updated: 2007-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-09 20:36:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloredink/pseuds/coloredink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What you do when everything's over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	aftermath

I. The Queen

It felt strange to wear a dress again, after such long years and months accoutered as a warrior. Sudden movements at the edge of her vision startled her, and time and time again it was only a guard, or a servant, or some aide or clerk in sudden and abrupt need of a word, and at the end of the day she was weary from it. It would be more restful, she thought, if t'were a coeurl or a hellhound; at least then it would be honest fatigue, and she might have something to show for it. She sought refuge on one of the balconies, where the stars, at least, never changed, and she might pick out the constellations she'd known as a child: the wyrm, the hare, the hound, the fountain. The Dalmascan night-air was cold against her bare arms, but she did not mind it so much, for it was home.

Basch's familiar footfall, accompanied now by the heavier ring of plate armor than the more gentle jingle of mail, was the only one that now did not spook her into grasping for a weapon that was no longer there. She nearly did not recognize him when she turned, clean-shaven with his hair shorn; he was near the image of his brother, save for the scar that ran through his brow.

She did not need to be told. "You are leaving."

"On the morrow," he said. "I sought you in your chambers, but the servants said you roam the palace in behavior much unsuited for a queen." He smiled, and she found she could not recall the last time, if ever, she had seen such plain honest humor on his face.

"You could not wait until an hour more fit for farewell?" she teased him gently.

"Ah, but tomorrow 'twill be a grand event, filled with trumpets and well-wishings." Basch's smile flickered then, imbued with something more like formality. The moment of candor was over. "I sought the company of Ashe, not Dalmasca."

"Then you have found me," she said. "So, speak."

Basch drew in a breath, and abruptly he would not meet Ashe's eyes. Unsettling, from one whose loyalty had never died in his breast, not even whilst the world thought him dead and he lay shamed in a dungeon, and her heart ached to think of how she had once treated him. Never could one find as faithful and stalwart a companion as this one.

When at last he found his voice, it was to say: "I need to know that I do not abandon you."

"Whatever do you mean?" she asked, startled; how could she even begin to think that Basch would ever abandon her; Basch, who had crawled back from death's doorstep to stand by her side?

"It was my brother's final wish that I protect what he could not," Basch said in a low voice, "but I cannot help but feel that my duties lie unfinished here."

Ashe was more surprised than he to find that what issued forth from her then was giddy, girlish laughter. She covered her mouth with both hands, delighted and astonished and abashed all at once, but she need only look at Basch's bewildered countenance to begin laughing afresh. She was able to control herself, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes, only when Basch's consternation turned to grave concern and it seemed he might call for the healer at any moment.

"You have long been in service to the house of Dalmasca," she said warmly. "You have returned from the dead, despite knowledge that all would shun you, that I would spurn you, that you were _kingslayer_ to all the world, in order that you might do what honor and loyalty demanded. Your duties here are ended, Basch fon Ronsenburg; I release you--indeed, you never needed stay."

Basch took both her hands then, and slid slowly down to one knee that he might press his forehead against them. "Thank you, my lady," he rasped, voice thick with emotion.

"Oh, stop it," Ashe cried, flustered and feeling as though she were but a child again. "You need not kneel to me any longer."

"Tomorrow," Basch said, "I will stop."

\---

II. The Sky Pirate

It was strange to be in Rabanastre again, he'd been away so long. The streets were familiar, but not; some of the taller buildings had crumbled a little from Bahamut's passing, and several of the streets in the South and West ends were blocked off entirely from the destruction. The fountain in the southern plaza was cluttered with rubble, and even Muthru Bazaar was empty for once, fragments of glass and masonry littering the packets of spices and heaped baskets of fruit. On the whole, though, Rabanastre had done really well; it could have been worse.

The _Strahl_ was best put to flying refuse out of Rabanastre, once recovery efforts were under way. Wreckage was brought to the aerodrome and loaded, and Vaan--with Penelo as his navigator, because every good sky pirate needed a partner--flew to the Jagd Yensa, or the Estersand, or the Plains, and left it, so that small monuments of debris stood here and there, a testament to the resilience of Dalmascans. They also scoured the surface for crashed ships and among them, corpses, but they never found any. Skyfortress Bahamut had been thorough, destroying ships in the air so that there wasn't even anything left to fall to the ground. Their crews had all died quickly.

After that first long day, Vaan prowled around inside the _Strahl_ , checking gauges and lines just like Balthier had taught him. The aerodrome was quiet, not even the usual guards around, and Vaan was content to be perfectly alone with the airship. Next he would check her outside for scratches; Balthier had warned him about that. . .

"Is she yours, Vaan?"

Vaan was so startled that he nearly tripped over himself trying to see who it was. Several familiar faces peeped at him through the open hatch.

"Wow, your very own airship, just like you always said!" Kytes exclaimed.

"Where did you get an airship, Vaan?" Filo breathed.

"She's not really mine," Vaan said, laughing. "I'm just taking care of her for a while." But his protestations were drowned out by the Buccaneer Brigade's loud, enthusiastic demands to be his crew. "I _told_ you," Vaan repeated, "she's not really mine, she's Bal--" But they overran him with questions: What was her name? How high could she go? How fast did she fly? How long would it take for him to fly from here to Archadia? To Bhujerba? Could he go all the way to Rozarria?

"Hey, hey, hey!" That was Penelo, here to rescue him, rapping the inside of the hatch with her knuckles. Her hair was down for once, wet and combed so that it fell past her shoulders. She looked tired, but still alert, and she gave Vaan a wan smile. "Sorry," she said. "I thought they'd like to see a real airship up close."

"It's no problem," Vaan said happily. "Hey--don't touch that!" he yelped as Fidget disappeared into the cockpit.

"It's okay," Penelo assured him. "It's not like he knows how to fly it."

Rounding them up made possible only by threats of punishment from Migelo and a promise that they would all go for a flight tomorrow, but only if they were good all night and tomorrow morning. Penelo sent them back to Lowtown, but lingered for some reason Vaan couldn't quite figure out. He was still giving the _Strahl_ a twice-over, or maybe a thrice-over. . .

"Aren't you coming?" Penelo asked.

"I think I'll stay here tonight," Vaan replied. "The guards aren't here, and Balthier'll kill me if anything happens to her."

Penelo gave him a long, inscrutable look. "He left her to you, Vaan," she said, her voice a little too quiet.

"He'll be back," Vaan said, firmly.

Penelo said nothing at first, then finally, "All right. You know where to find me." And she backed out of the hatch, and was gone.

"I'm looking after her," Vaan mumbled to himself as he headed into the back, where the sleeping areas were. "I am. I will."

\---

III. The Judge

He was not yet accustomed to the helm, its unfamiliar weight, how it muffled his hearing and restricted his vision so that he must need turn his head fully to see to the left and to the right. But it reminded him that his life was his brother's now; that as his brother had once taken up Basch's name and likeness to slay a king, so now Basch must take on the mantle of Judge Magister Gabranth to shield one.

A day was taken, after their return, in ushering the young prince--now Emperor--thither and yon: to affix his seal to important documents, to fit him for a crown and coronation robes, to advise him of important speeches and diplomatic affairs. Larsa bore up well, but at the end of the day Basch could see that he was weary. He was so young, after all, though his manners were so mature in years. As for Basch, it did not seem unusual that Judge Gabranth would shadow his charge so closely; indeed, no one took notice of him at all.

At last, Larsa retired to his quarters, his steps less light than previously, his vestments seeming to drag upon his person. Basch went with him, for he had naught else to go, and indeed it seemed that Larsa might want for companionship. Larsa slumped into a chair and immediately began to remove his footwear. Basch hovered uncertainly by the door; Larsa did not dismiss him, so his presence must not be so unwelcome.

Larsa wiggled his toes and gave Basch an indulgent look. "You are dismissed," he said, not unkindly.

"I, ah." Basch attempted as contrite a posture as possible, difficult though it were in the plate armor. "I do not know where my quarters are."

Chagrin crossed Larsa's features then. "My apologies," he said softly, small fingers curling round the arms of his chair. He quickly remembered to smile. "I had forgotten."

Basch regretted having said anything, then. His presence had surely been of comfort to the young prince throughout the day, who had lost so much but could believe--could pretend--that Judge Gabranth was the one thing in his life that had not changed.

"I will show you to your quarters myself," Larsa said. "T'would not do for the servants to notice any irregularity. And you need not come with me tomorrow," he added. "I am safe as houses here in the palace, and Judge Zargabaath will have need of you then, for there are three positions within the Judges Magister that must be filled."

Basch finds that he cannot well imagine the next day without Larsa to anchor him; Zargabaath knows, may even understand, but Basch still finds himself thinking of the older Judge as an enemy. "I fear I would be useless there."

"But 'twill be expected of you." Larsa fingered the ring he now wore on a chain 'round his neck; it was the emperor's seal--his, now, but too large to fit his finger yet. "You will learn it in time. You are Judge Gabranth now, after all."

How strange it felt, to be addressed by that name; it was all Basch could do to keep from looking to see if his brother were there.

Larsa watched him as if he could discern the face behind the helm and read his heart there. "I would not hold you here." His voice was low and shuttered. "I know that it was your brother's wish, but I am no tyrant, and I have no wish to be. The right is yours to leave, if you wish it."

"No," Basch said, his voice echoing queerly in his brother's shell. "My place is here, now, for as long as you wish it."

\---

IV. The Navigator

On the tenth day after the fall of Bahamut, the shops were locked and even the bazaar shuttered itself. Penelo didn't have any black, but Migelo found dark ribbons for her hair and waited while she braided them in. Then together, they made their way to the central plaza; black banners draped the balconies, and the palace's flags were at half-mast, limp in the faint desert breeze. The crowd that gathered here was silent and somber, not like--it hadn't been that long ago, had it, when the Consul had come and there had been a grand fete held in his honor? Now it was the Lady Ashe--soon to be Queen of Dalmasca--dressed in tasteful mourning, distant and sad.

"Dalmasca is free now," she said, her voice echoing out over the plaza, and she sounded so different from when they'd fought side by side, felling Marlboros and Pit Fiends. "But we are not alone. A new day has dawned with new comrades, new allies. Now we look toward peace, and we must never again allow hatred to grow in our hearts, for nothing good comes of it." She bowed her head, briefly, and Penelo bit her bottom lip. Ashe looked up again, and from this distance Penelo couldn't see if she wept. "Let us offer a moment of silence for all those who died on that day, whether they be Dalmascan, Rozarrian, Bhujerban, or Archadian. And let us remember, especially, the sky pirates Balthier and Fran, who so valiantly gave their lives so that Rabanastre might yet stand today. The road before us lies clear; let Ivalice look to the horizon. _Faram_."

"Faram," the crowd intoned, and fell silent once more, heads bowed. Penelo did the same, and she didn't open her eyes again until Migelo touched her gently on the shoulder.

"Let's go. Shop's waiting," he said gruffly, but his eyes were understanding.

Penelo wiped her eyes hastily. "Right."

Migelo took a step, then stopped again, looking at her uncertainly. "Listen," he said, "you want the rest of the day off. . ."

"No, no." Penelo shook her head so that her braids flopped against her neck. "I'm fine. I just. . ."

Migelo nodded sympathetically and shuffled off in the direction of the shop. The edges of the crowd broke off around them, heading back to their respective lives in drips and drops, some of them with sober, thoughtful looks and others with a distracted air.

"So you knew her, eh?" Migelo queried as they turned into the east end. "And those sky pirates, too." Penelo nodded, and Migelo shook his head, earrings jingling. "My, my, Penelo. What you've been doing with yourself, these past months, consorting with royalty and pirates." He fell silent, and heaved a sigh through his whiskers. "I didn't think much of them," he confessed. "It seemed like he, him, Balthier, would just--stand by when those wretches took you to Bhujerba--and I didn't care much for his partner, either, she was so cold. But in the end. . ."

Penelo thought of Balthier, his unerring shots just when she thought the wolves would overwhelm her; she thought of Fran, who'd so patiently coaxed the magick out, powers she'd never known she had; she thought of Ashe, so remote and alone up there, on the balcony; she thought of Basch, by now in Archades, standing at Larsa's shoulder; she thought of Larsa, now the boy-emperor of a nation she'd always thought the enemy; she thought of Vaan, no doubt still with the _Strahl_ , awaiting Balthier's return.

". . . they weren't anything like that at all, were they," Migelo finished, quietly.

"No." Suddenly, it was hard to talk. "They weren't."

\---

V. The Emperor

 _Dear Penelo,_ Larsa wrote. _I hope this letter finds you well. My apologies for not having been in closer contact; Archadia is, as you can well imagine, in some turmoil at the moment, and my presence here is of greatest import._ He paused, then, frowning slightly at the letter. This would never do. Penelo was not the Princess--nay, the Queen Ashe; he did not have to make excuses to her, to explain the politics of the land. He pushed the paper aside and began afresh.

 _Dear Penelo_ , he wrote. _I hope this letter finds you well. This is the first moment I've found to write; it has been terribly busy here, as you can well imagine. Basch is well, and sends his regards._

Larsa stopped, then, upon realizing that he had little to say of his own affairs that were not also the country's. Was this what it meant, then, to be Emperor? He placed his pen in the inkwell and stood, going to the window; perhaps the fresh air would serve as inspiration.

Archades looked the same as it always had, unaffected by the burgeoning war that had so occupied the higher echelons of the Archadian administration. Had they noticed that the Senate had been disbanded, that two Emperors had so suddenly and shockingly died? What did they think that a twelve-year-old now ruled, unfettered? Did they fault him for it?

He attempted to compose a letter in his mind. _Dear Penelo,_ it began. _I hope this letter finds you well. This is the first moment I've found to write; it has been terribly busy, as you can well imagine. Basch is well, and sends his regards. I myself am sound in body, but ill at ease; I am as unprepared for this role as can be, and when they address me as 'Emperor' I think my father must be in the room._

No; that was far too intimate. He found himself wishing, with a sudden fierce pang, that he could speak to Gabranth, or Drace, or even his brother. He curled one hand into a fist on the sill and laid his forehead against it, eyes closed. No. Perhaps not his brother.

 _Dear Penelo_ , he wrote in his mind. _I hope this letter finds you well. It is my fondest wish that I should visit you in Rabanastre soon, for I am already weary of my duties here. I must take care not to let Basch find this letter, or he might contrive some way to shut me in the palace. He is well, by the way, and sends his regards._

That would have to do, as an opening at least. But Larsa did not move quite yet; it was peaceful here, behind his eyes.

\-- end --

**Author's Note:**

> Ashe's speech was borrowed heavily from Yuna's speech at the end of Final Fantasy X; I beg your indulgence, as I'm terrible at speechwriting.
> 
> "Safe as houses" is a British idiom first recorded in 1859; Hotten's _A Slang Dictionary_ gives its origin as as arising when speculation favored houses as a safe investment.
> 
> Thanks to:  
> [](http://dasmondschaf.livejournal.com/profile)[ **dasmondschaf**](http://dasmondschaf.livejournal.com/) for handholding and hitting, when it was necessary.  
> [](http://turtlespeaks.livejournal.com/profile)[ **turtlespeaks**](http://turtlespeaks.livejournal.com/) who actually called me from the car with her father to tell me what she thought.  
> [](http://ladysisyphus.livejournal.com/profile)[ **ladysisyphus**](http://ladysisyphus.livejournal.com/) for being really, really picky.  
> [](http://boxedmongoose.livejournal.com/profile)[ **boxedmongoose**](http://boxedmongoose.livejournal.com/) for some on-the-fly line editing.  
> [](http://mithrigil.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://mithrigil.livejournal.com/) **mithrigil** , who did something, I'm sure of it.
> 
> Apologies to anyone I may have forgotten; numerous people cheerleaded this.


End file.
